


Every Version of Me

by namupokemanchan



Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alive Reginald Hargreeves, Asexual Luther Hargreeves, Daddy Issues, Dimension Travel, Drug Use, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Everyone Needs A Hug, Father Figures, Gen, Including Reginald, Klaus Hargreeves Being an Idiot, Luther Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Pet Names, Protective Allison Hargreeves, Protective Luther Hargreeves, Reginald Hargreeves Being A Good Person, These hoes need therapy, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29981853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/namupokemanchan/pseuds/namupokemanchan
Summary: "Magic and all that is ascribed to it is a deep presentiment of the powers of science."-Ralph Waldo EmersonReginald Hargreeves did not pretend to understand the theory of alternate dimensions. Sure, time travel existed, his late son proved that but alternate dimensions? Please.At least until he ended up in one himself. One where his children were much different than he remembered.
Relationships: Grace Hargreeves & Reginald Hargreeves, Grace Hargreeves/Reginald Hargreeves, Reginald Hargreeves & Everyone, The Hargreeves Family, Vanya Hargreeves/Leonard Peabody
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	1. Not In Kansas Anymore

There were many things that Reginald Hargreeves prided himself on knowing. He was an inventor, an Olympic fencer, a scientist- he even had a brief understanding of politics, but he didn’t understand or pretended to understand the theory of alternate dimensions. 

Yes, he was from another planet completely separate from the milky way but he was from the same dimension as earth. He had briefly studied the theory but to no avail and quickly abandoned it for other pursuits. Instead of coming to a new dimension, Reginald simply inhabited a new planet, not a new state of being with his children and the umbrella academy.

Well… he had lived with his children until they had all moved out. Even Luther, which had taken everyone by surprise, especially Reginald. He wanted his children to grow up, find their independence and live a life apart from him and the academy, but Reginald was a deeply sentimental and occasionally clingy person. He held on tight to his past hard and even harder to his family. 

Reginald sighed and took a drag on his contraband cherry cigarette. The silence of the academy was something he would have to get used to it now that it was empty of children. Grace and Pogo were still there, of course. They knew Hargreeves couldn't function without them and after all, they were a family. 

  
  


Exhaling slowly, Reginald stared out the window of his office, his free hand tapping on the mahogany finish of his desk. He could go for a cup of tea right about now but he didn't really want to leave his chair. As Grace would tell him, he was "ageing handsomely but not gracefully." The illegal cigarettes weren't helping either. 

Smiling at the thought of his wife, Reginald put out his cigarette in the antique ashtray on his desk before getting to his feet, grabbing his walking stick as he did. He might be an alien creature with tentacles, but he was still an old man. An old man with a bad leg, decaying eyesight and tentacles that would constantly cramp up. As tentacles did when they got older without regenerating. 

Reginald’s arm shook slightly as he put his weight on his cane, as it usually did. Cephalopods weren't made for land travel, especially not for as many decades as he had lived. Cephalopods really weren’t made for anything but slipping through very small spaces.

The steady thunk-clack-thunk through the halls at night had become customary for the big house. It replaced the sound of children running through the hallways or more customarily, the sound of Diego and Luther fighting. Occasionally the sound of Klaus falling over followed by Allison laughing.

Reginald smiled to himself as he walked down the stairs to the kitchen. He should call Luther again, he hadn't in a while. Last he heard, his son was setting up a "space-themed bakery" with his friend. His very attractive male friend knew what bear and femme meant. 

"The French are glad to-" Reginald lit another cherry cigarette "-die for love, they delight in fighting duels." He took a drag on it as he pushed open the kitchen door. 

Exhaling, he put the kettle on the stove. "But I prefer a man who lives and gives expensive jewels." Reginald leaned against the counter, tapping his cigarette on the edge of an ashtray. 

The sky was lighter than it should have been at the time but he didn't really notice as he poured the boiling water into his teacup. 

Reginald set his cigarette on the edge of the kitchen ashtray before going to pick up his teacup and stumbling into the counter. The windows had started rattling hard and he gripped the counter to keep balance. Earthquakes were quite uncommon but tornados weren't. Was this a tornado?

The teacup shook violently before falling on the floor and shattering along with a vase and the ashtray. Reginald adjusted his monocle as the windows blew open, a few of them shattering on impact. He lost his balance and fell into the counter hard enough to lose consciousness. 

* * *

"The future's shit by the way," Five told his siblings as he spread peanut butter on the bread and added mini marshmallows. 

"Called it!" Klaus said, climbing onto the table and crossing his legs. 

"I'm amazed dad- Sir Hargreeves still bought that stuff," Luther said, looking at his younger older brother's sandwich. 

Five glanced up at Klaus. "Nice dress."

Klaus beamed and smoothed the skirt he had stolen from Allison's room. "Danke."

Luther leaned against the kitchen wall awkwardly, trying to shrink into himself. "If you were in the future, how did you get here?"

Five rolled his eyes and took a bite of his sandwich. "I projected myself into a state of consciousness that exists in every second of every known plane of reality."

They all stayed silent for a few seconds before Diego finally said "That doesn't make any sense."

"Well it would if you were smarter," Five deadpanned and Diego grabbed one of his knives. 

They scowled at each other for a few seconds before Klaus rolled his eyes and climbed off the table. "Alright, I'm going to roll dad's chequebook into joints. Maybe smoke his old fancy white man cigarettes."

Luther opened his mouth before Allison touched his arm. "Leave it, big guy."

He closed his mouth and stayed silent as Klaus left the room. 

"So why are you here?" Vanya asked, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but-"

Klaus stuck his head back into the kitchen. "Hey, space boy! Big guy! I conjured dear old daddy."

Luther perked up instantly, looking happy for the first time in years. "Really?" 

Klaus shoved his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, bitch. See? I'm not too high to conjure people when I want to. Weed is barely a drug."

Diego looked up and narrowed his eyes. "Weed is a drug and you're ruining your body. Where's the old man? Here?"

Vanya shrank behind Allison awkwardly. None of them had a good relationship with Reginald but Vanya had barely had a relationship with him, period. "He's here?"

"Yeah, he's-" Klaus stepped back into the hallway and then popped back in. "He's in the living room."

Diego nodded and tucked his knife back into his repurposed sex harness. "This I have to see."

"You can't see ghosts," Luther pointed out. 

Diego glared at him and pulled the knife out again. "You watch your- nevermind."

"I'd like to talk to dad, I mean sir again. I've got some questions" Luther said, shifting his coat awkwardly. 

They all followed Klaus into the living room before standing there in shocked silence, staring at the man in the living room. Their father was crumpled on the floor with a gash on his forehead, his arm bent at an odd angle. Reginald looked different from what they remembered, what with the blood running down his face, the wrinkled dark purple suit and the slight pink tint to his hair and moustache. 

Diego was the first to speak up. "That's not a ghost, that's a dead body."

Five, still holding his sandwich, nudged at Reginald's side with the toe of his shoe. "Yeah, that's a corpse alright."

Luther made a strangled noise and covered his mouth with his hands. Sighing, Allison squeezed his arm. "He went peacefully," she offered him before Five shook his head. 

"Nope, looks like he fell." Five turned Reginald over and took his arm. "Broken wrist too." He squeezed his father's wrist gently, examining the bruises. "Yeah, definitely broken. Probably in two places."

Vanya stepped out from behind her tallest brother. "We should bury him…"

"Yeah, he'll start to stink soon." Diego crouched down and poked his father's side with the handle of his knife. "What were those ashes from?"

"Don't touch him!" Luther snapped, pulling away from Allison. 

Diego took a step towards him, glaring. "Need me to kick your ass again, Number One?"

Five rolled his eyes and dropped Reginald's hand. "You both are the stupidest people I've ever met in my life."

“But he’s being disrespectful,” Luther protested in the same voice he used when he had gotten in trouble as a child.

While everyone was distracted by Diego threatening to stab Luther for the third time that day, Reginald opened his eyes blearily. He struggled to get into a sitting position and winced as he put pressure on his injured arm. "Oh, what are all of you doing here?" He asked, lying back on the floor and pushing his sleeve up to examine the bruising. 

Luther released Diego's shirt and crouched down to help Reginald onto the couch. "You're- you're not dead?"

He laughed lightly and dabbed at the blood on his forehead. "Certainly not yet, but I do feel like it. Luther, be a dear and get a damp cloth."

If the umbrella academy was shocked, they were completely blown away now. It really commented on Reginald's parenting if they were more surprised by him respecting his children than coming back to life. Everyone stayed silent until Luther came back and handed the cloth to his father. 

"Thank you, Luther," Reginald said, wiping the blood off his face. He looked up at his children, eyes resting on Diego. "You changed your hair again, hm?"

Diego narrowed his eyes and touched the back of his head before stepping away from his father. "Not really."

Reginald got to his feet after a bit of effort and smoothed his blazer. "Oh. It looks nice, Diego."

Diego's hard expression faltered and he lowered his hands. He seemed both more relaxed and more tense at the same time. "What did you call me?"

Reginald squinted at him. "Your name? Diego Hargreeves?"

Luther pressed his hand against Reginald's forehead. "Are you feeling alright?"

He pushed Luther's hand away. "Of course I don't, I'm bleeding from my face." Reginald waved awkwardly to his children. "Uh, Number Five, could you-" He made a strangled noise and got to his feet, staggering to hug the tiny boy. 

Number Five froze, arms stiffening at his side. "What is he doing?" He hissed, trying to wiggle away. 

Reginald pulled away, clinging to Five's shoulders despite the stabbing pain in his arm. "You're not dead?"

"Uh, nope. Now stop touching me or I'll throat jab you," Five snapped, smacking his father's arm. "Off. Off!"

Reginald released him and sank to the floor, tearing up. "You're not dead."

Five smoothed non-existent wrinkles out of his jacket. "Did your brain melt in the last nineteen years? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I believe I've always been like this," Reginald said, dabbing at his eyes. "Luther, where's your boyfriend?"

Everyone stared at Luther and he hunched in on himself. "My- I don't-" Luther made a strangled noise and hunched his shoulders, looking at everyone. "What?"

"The lovely boy you work with. In the bakery," Reginald said as if it was obvious and Luther shared a look with Klaus. He wiped his eyes and came away with blood on his fingers. "Allison sweetheart, would you be a dear and get your mother?"

"What the fuck," Allison mumbled as she left the room. 

* * *

"Are you sure you're not confused, honey? Your father's dead." Grace said sweetly as per usual. 

Allison sighed, taking her arm. "He's not, mom."

"Honey, I watched him get cremated. He's dead!" She cooed and kissed Allison's cheek. "But I'll go look at it."

"Really weird voice to say your husband died but okay."

When they walked back into the living room, Five was writing frantically on something, Klaus and Diego were talking in a corner next to a very confused-looking Luther and a scared-looking Vanya who was patting Reginald's shoulder. Grace's nearly permanent smile faded and she dropped the first aid kit she was holding. 

"Oh, dear!" She squeaked, stumbling to pick up the kit. "That's your father."

Reginald looked up and beamed, the lines around his eyes crinkling. "Grace, darling! You changed your hair."

Grace touched her very blonde curls, confused. "It's always- alright dear."

"Blonde is a very nice look on you, dear, but you don't have to wear your limbs for me. I know I haven't updated them quite right," Reginald said blearily, leaning against the couch. 

"Is he on drugs, mom?" Diego asked. "Like meth or something? Klaus was like that when he tried speed."

"We should take a urine sample," Klaus offered, smiling at the memory of illegal drug abuse. "I can make anyone piss."

"Klaus!" Luther exclaimed. 

He shrugged. "What, I can!" No one knew him well enough to dispute that. 

Allison shook her head, closing her eyes. "No one's doing anything like that."

Five slammed the atlas he had been writing on for the past ten minutes hard on the coffee table. "I've got it!"

Everyone but Grace and Allison jumped. 

"He's a demon?" Klaus offered, receiving a very confused look from Five.

"I pity your psychologist," Five muttered before straightening his tie. "No, demons aren't real and neither is kindness."

"I think kindness is real," Vanya offered quietly, provoking an eye roll from Diego.

“Because you’d know so much about that,” he muttered under his breath.

"He's an alien!" Klaus shouted. 

Luther rubbed at his temples. "Nope. Aliens aren't real and-"

Reginald chuckled as Grace bandaged his forehead. "You're not serious, are you? Really?"

As his children stared at him, he leaned back against the couch. "How would you explain Ben, then? Or me? Really, Space Boy, you've been to Mars."

“What are you- nevermind,” Five huffed. “He’s clearly concussed. Headwound, delirious mumbling, acting differently? It’s obvious.” He snapped his fingers in front of Reginald’s face, prompting him to blink a few times. “See? Concussion.”

Grace scooped up their father as though he weighed almost nothing and carried him out of the room, presumably to the infirmary.

Luther frowned slightly, watching their retreating parents. “But- but the ashes- we had a funeral!”

Klaus shrugged. “I mean, he is an asshole. He’d probably do that just to see how we’d react. I think dick punching Ben and Fivers showing up was unexpected though.”

Allison sighed and checked the clock. “Well it’s late and I got a hotel room a few blocks away. Anyone need a place to stay the night?” She looked pointedly at Luther.

Five looked up from where he was wiping Reginald’s blood off his hand and onto the couch. “Does your hotel have coffee?”


	2. The First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reginald talks with Allison and Luther works through his issues

After the Umbrella Academy once again went their separate ways and Grace had finished bandaging his head and wrist, Reginald began wandering the house he didn't recognize. The academy still looked like the academy but it wasn't entirely the same. The door beside Reginald's bedroom opened to a closet instead of Pogo's bedroom and instead of the chimp's office across the hall, there was a spare room. There was a large portrait of Reginald above his desk instead of the framed Marilyn Monroe poster and his cigarettes were missing from the desk drawer. 

Reginald scowled as he closed the drawer before his eyes rested on the framed photo of John F. Kennedy on his desk. What on earth happened to this place in the few hours he was unconscious?

While looking around the deeply disconcerting office, Reginald spotted a familiar figure walking past the open door and quickly got to his feet. "Pogo? Is that you, Pogo?"

Pogo flinched before looking up at Reginald. "Oh, um- Master Hargreeves. I didn't realize you were… alive. Can I help you, sir?"

Reginald's eyebrows knit together. Master Hargreeves? "I- yes, I believe I've misplaced my cigarettes, have you seen them? I also seem to have lost my journal and crystal shot glasses."

Pogo seemed to be shrinking away from Reginald as he spoke. "I believe you stopped smoking once Master Klaus started, Sir. I could ask him if you'd like? The glasses do seem like something he would take."

That didn't make a lick of sense to Reginald but Pogo was being extremely disconcerting right now and he was too tired and sore to deal with it. He didn't want to question his assistant when he was running on painkillers and no sleep. "No, no, you should sleep or at least lie down, Pogo," Reginald reassured him. "I'll figure it out. I know how your hip bothers you at night."

"Of course, Master Hargreeves," Pogo mumbled before shuffling down the hallway. 

Reginald dug around in his jacket pocket and found a notebook and a pen. He made the note "Ask Pogo about his mental health" before tucking it away and going back to wandering the halls. 

As Reginald walked past the row of numbered doors, he stopped, catching a whiff of smoke. He took a few steps back and stopped by Allison's bedroom door, the location of the smoke. Reginald's hand rested on the door knob before he opened it. Allisom was out though, something about a hotel with Five. Not expecting to see anyone, he pushed open the door. 

Allison looked up from her spot on the window seat and quickly put her cigarette out on the outside wall. "Uh- hey, sir."

Reginald sat down on the throw cushion across from her. "Please tell me you have more cigarettes."

Her hand tightened on the pack of cigarettes. "You're not supposed to smoke if you have a head injury. But yeah, whatever." Allison held out a cigarette to her father and he took it, lighting it with the lighter in his pocket. 

Reginald took a drag on his cigarette before glancing at Allison. "What happened to the hotel room with Number Five?"

She laughed and lit another cigarette. "Well uh, he bought a-" Allison shook her head and tapped the ash off on the windowsill. "Nevermind."

Reginald exhaled smoke out the window, smiling slightly. "What did he buy?"

Allison stared out the window for a few seconds. "He bought a hooker."

Reginald snorted before bursting into bizzare cackling that made Allison start laughing too. She had never heard him laugh before and that was definitely not what she expected. "What the hell was-" Allison quickly stopped laughing and went back to her cigarette. "Sorry, I'm- sorry about that."

Reginald shook his head, the cigarette shaking in his hand. "No, I know. My beak wasn't made for human sounds. Took me years to get my American accent down pat."

Allison tapped her cigarette off on the windowsill. "God, you're on so many painkillers, aren't you?"

He shrugged, leaning his head against the wall. "I have no idea what that woman did to me in that hospital room. I miss her robotic look and the black hair though. Blonde hair is for lesbians and actresses."

Allison started giggling again. "And hookers too, apparently. Five's was dressed like Marilyn Monroe." This was the most bizzare conversation she had ever had in her entire life, especially since it was with her father. 

Reginald smiled, cigarette hanging from his lips. "I love her. We drank tea and whiskey together one time. I would have married her if I hadn't met Edgar."

Allison tapped the ash off her cigarette, giving him a quizzical look. "I like you when you're high. You should stay like this all the time. Who's Edgar?"

"My ex- well not really ex husband, men couldn't get married in the 1950s but we said we were married. He tried to cut out my teeth, presumably to sell." He stared off into space, ash falling from his cigarette and onto his blazer's lapel. 

Allison watched Reginald dissociate for a few seconds before he looked up at her again. "Speaking of husbands, how's yours? Patrick something or other?" 

Her smile faded as she looked out the window, hand tightening on her cigarette. "We got divorced. About eight months ago."

Reginald made a sympathetic noise and took her free hand in his. "You are a beautiful woman and he does not deserve you. Now come here, you're getting hugged, sweetheart." 

Allison hesitated before putting her cigarette down and hugging her father gently. She knew this was just because he was high out of his mind but it was nice to get parental affection that wasn't programmed. Maybe if Allison had more of that she wouldn't have lost custody of her daughter. "He got custody of Claire too."

Reginald began rubbing circles over her back. "He is an evil, evil man who doesn't deserve anything good in the world." He pulled away and squeezed Allison's shoulders. "Do you want me to kill him? I will run him over with my car. I just got new shocks on it so you'll barely feel the crunch of his-"

Allison pressed a finger to his lips. "Nope, nope. Don't want that. Please do not kill my ex husband and the father of my child."

Reginald nodded and flopped against the wall. "The room is spinning, my dear."

Allison sighed, got to her feet and lifted Reginald up so she was practically carrying him. "Let's get you to bed, alright?" 

"Okay, Allison," he mumbled, closing his eyes. 

She helped Reginald down to his office, past the broken china in front of her door and set him down on the fainting couch in the corner. His bedroom freaked Allison out and she was not setting foot in there. "I'm going to miss you," Allison sighed, helping him lie down. 

"I'm always going to be here, honey," Reginald said, moving a cushion under his head. 

"No, once the pills wear off, you're going to be mean and make Luther cry," she said, pulling a throw blanket over her father. 

* * *

He wasn't sure how he should feel about this. Yes, Luther was happy that his father wasn't dead, but if that man was really Reginald, it meant he faked his death for what? To see how they would react? To see if Luther and the others would care about him?

He still cared for their father, obviously but… his siblings weren’t the most understanding or sympathetic people. Diego had an explosive temper, Klaus could barely focus on a conversation long enough to form an opinion, Luther didn’t know that much about Vanya and Allison… well Allison was perfect and had never done anything wrong ever but she wouldn't be very understanding about this fake funeral thing. 

Luther didn't understand it either but he knew that Reginald always had a reason for everything he did. For the last mission, the surgeries and sending him to the moon. Everything his father did had reasons behind it, even if Luther couldn't make sense of them. 

After Grace took Reginald to the infirmary, Luther was alone in the living room again. He was used to being alone but that didn't mean he liked it. Sighing, Luther ran his gloved hand over the back of his neck until he met the eyes of the portrait of Reginald hanging over the fireplace. He instinctively stopped hunching his shoulders and fixed his posture before leaving the room. Not that he'd ever say that, but that painting freaked the fuck out of Luther. 

After wandering around the halls for an hour or so, he walked past the last family portrait Reginald ever had painted. It was only him and a happy looking 21 year old Luther strategically painted to look shorter than his father. Luther smiled sadly, fingers ghosting over the outline of his painted form. He missed being that body. 

Almost on queue, his new body's stomach rumbled and even though there was nobody around, Luther's cheeks turned pink. After seven years of living in this body, he still wasn't fully used to how much food it demanded. He should eat, he should, but…

Luther looked back at the painting, back at the younger version of him. He looked happier, more attractive, smaller. Even though Luther had always been the largest in his family, the portrait looked almost petite compared to the current him. 

Now Luther wasn't fat in any definition of the word but he had standards for his body higher than the stratosphere. Scratch that actually, Luther was fat in his definition of the word, no matter how wrong that might be. 

The idea of fat on his arms? Push ups until he collapsed. A bit of squish to his thighs? Two hours on the treadmill should fix that. The ghost of love handles? Great, time to do sit ups until his stomach burned and he felt like vomiting. Sometimes Luther did vomit, not that he was against that though. More calories lost and a reminder to stop eating dairy products. 

He probably should eat but the food Grace made, despite being delicious, was full of unnecessary fats and calories. Reginald had made it very clear that Luther didn't need those over the four years he spent in space. Who knew a 300 and something pound man could live off dehydrated strawberries, apple juice and protein gel? There was probably something Luther could eat somewhere in the pantry but he'd eat after he visited the training room in the basement.

Food was earned by doing what his father asked of him, a concept that occasionally made Luther feel a bit like an animal or a pet. Not that his body helped with that view of himself. Oh well, at least working out would make him feel more human. 

A few hours later, Luther lay down on the cold concrete of the training room floor, letting it leech away the heat and sweat from his body. One of the worst things about his body was how sweaty his fur got after even minimal exercise. Luther should shower but the idea of being naked was his personal hell. He'd do it later, when it would be dark enough that no sunlight would shine in and disrupt the darkness that made showers almost bearable. 

After a few seconds of deliberation, Luther pulled off his coat, gloves and then his sweater, dropping them onto the floor. No one would see him here and his overcoat made him sweat like a bitch. 

His stomach rumbled again as if in protest and Luther begrudgingly got to his feet, trudging up the stairs and to the kitchen. He rummaged through the pantry for a minute or so before finding a crumpled packet of tea in the back. Tea was good and Luther definitely preferred it with water that wasn't recycled… yeah. 

He set the kettle on the stove and turned it on before sitting down in the nearest chair as delicately as possible. It held his weight so Luther relaxed slightly, waiting for the water to boil. He could bring Reginald a cup. He liked tea, right? Luther remembered drinking tea with him one time, when they still spent time together. 

He poured two cups of tea when the water finished boiling, choosing the delicate white china cup for his father. The stairs creaked under Luther's feet as he walked to the office but he tried not to take it personally. As he walked past the row of bedroom doors, he stopped. 

There were voices and laughter coming from behind Allison's bedroom door and Luther stopped. He recognized her voice and… Reginald's too? Luther took a step closer and through the crack between the door and the wall, he saw Allison and Reginald hug. 

Why would he be talking to her? The last time Reginald mentioned Allison he had called her an "intensely vapid and annoying woman wasting her life on things of no meaning" and he was talking to her now? Laughing with her? When Allison had never shown him any sort of respect and Luther had given him everything? 

His hands tightened into fists on instinct, crunching the teacups into shards. Luther didn't even notice until his hands had started bleeding and he looked down at the mess he had made before trudging off to his room. He could clean it up later. 

Or Reginald would cut his feet on it. Either way was fine with Luther. 


End file.
